Medieval Mentalist
by castlelover88
Summary: Set in medieval/middle ages/ renaissance (don't know which is which- the one with the princesses and jousts etc.) and Jane and Lisbon meet as children. Suck at summaries, just something I thought of whilst unable to sleep :)
1. Angry Little Princess

**Authors Note: This is meant to be set in the medieval or renaissance or middle ages (I'm not sure which is which- I think I may fail history!) I apologise for any historical inaccuracies that may occur (it can't be as bad as the Victorian story I wrote when I was eleven where the main characters 'climbed out of a sleek black car'! :( )**

**Disclaimer:I do not own the mentalist or any of the characters (although the DVD set is on my Christmas list).**

It was a cool day in April when Patrick Jane first saw the girl with the green eyes. He knew who she was of course, but he had never met or socialised with her. He knew his place in society and kept to the normal order of things. He had learnt in his few years in the world that it was often better to blend in than stand out, although he often had difficulties doing so. With an inability to keep his mout shut when necessary and looks that may as well have belonged to an angel, he seemed to attract attention wherever he went. This, combined with his extraordinary ability to read people, meant that he was shunned by the other children. He knew that he disturbed people a little. This came as no real surprise to him. It was eerie when this child, whom you barely knew, could tell with just one glance your deepest, darkest secrets and then repeat them to you with such childish glee. Even his Father was startled by him. He had already surpassed his Father when it came to reading people, with a natural aptitude for reading emotions and reactions. As he watched the girl, he couldn't help but wish that they could be friends. He knew that it was unlikely to be so, they were simply of a different class, but she had a kind face and he thought that she would make a nice friend- an escape from his lonely existance.

He could see that the girl had been crying, although it was clear from the defiant set of her jaw that she was trying to hide her tears and emotions. Her sorrow came as no real surprise to him. He knew that her mother, the Queen, had delivered her youngest child the day before and her future looked bleak. He watched as the girl, who was maybe eight to his ten, reached towards a brilliant red rose, pulling it close as she inhaled its rich, heady scent. He saw her turn away, only to stumble, her hands grasping the nearest thing to her for support- the rose bush. When she recovered her balance she pulled her hand away, wincing in pain. He could see how close she was to tears and took pity on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you!" she snapped fiercely, refusing to admit weakness.

He rolled his eyes at her and, without asking permission, took hold of her hand.

"Hey!" she responded, trying to pull away, but his grip was too strong. After strugggling a little, she reluctantly relaxed.

Patrick cooly examined her hand. He could tell that some of the thorns were stuck in her palm, having broken off when she pulled away from the plant. He knew that he would have to remove them. He reached out to touch one and she gasped.

"Oww!"

He gave a smile. "Chicken!" he said and she glared at him. Sighing, he looked her in the eye. He could usually get people to do what he wanted, but he had a feeling that she would be tough.

"Do you trust me?" he asked gently, looking serenely and pleadingly into her eyes.

She didn't soften in the slightest. "Of course not!" she retorted. "I don't even know you!"

He smiled, a dazzling smile that somehow crept past her defences a little- only a little.

"My name's Patrick Jane."

She looked startled, trying to place the name. Then she gasped.

"You're the court magician's son."

He nodded calmly, glad that she was somewhat distracted whilst he removed the thorns.

"Your father is really good. I almost believed that he could actually do magic."

"Maybe he can," grinned Patrick, in a mysterious voice. The girl shook her head, too serious for someone so young.

"I don't believe in magic," she replied. "It's all tricks and sleight of hand. True magic would never be so ostentatious."

He was surprised. "So cynical for one so young," he responded, removing the final thorn. "There you are, all better," he said, wrapping her hand tightly in his handkerchief to stem the bleeding.

She looked down in surprise. "I barely felt it," she murmured.

Jane smiled. "Maybe I'm magic," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't believe me?" he questioned, pulling out a pack of cards. "Pick one."

She pulled out a card.

"Now remember it and put it back."

She did so and he shuffled the pack before pulling out the queen of hearts and showing it to her.

"Was this your card?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "No," she replied and he laughed.

"You're a terrible liar," he observed.

She flushed slightly, before admiting, somewhat reluctantly, that it was a good trick.

"I could teach it you if you like," he offered, smiling.

She nodded slightly. "I'd like that," she said shyly. She realised with a jolt that she had yet to introduce herself. He manners really were slipping. "I'm Teresa Lisbon," she said, shaking his hand, a strange gesture for a little girl.

"The princess," he said. It wasn't a question. She blushed violently and he could tell that she hated to be judged by her social standing, so he decided to have a little fun with her. He bowed dramatically low.

"Well, your Majesty, I am but your humble servant,"

She raised an eyebrow. "You, humble?" she said, smiling for the first time. It lit up her face, making her eyes glow as though lit from behind.

He grinned. "Touche," he admitted and she giggled.

"Shouldn't you have a nurse with you?" he queried. He didn't see many noble children, but those that he did see were usualy surrounded by bustling servants, attending to their every need.

Teresa bit her lip. "I snuck out," she admitted. "It's horrific in the Palace at the moment."

Patrick nodded sympathtically. He knew what imminent death felt like- he had experienced it not so long before with his own mother and could relate strongly to Teresa.

Teresa looked alarmed. "I'm sure someone will have noticed that I'm gone by now. I'd better get back!"

She smiled at Patrick and gave a slight curtsey. "Thank you." she said.

He smiled. "Anything for royalty. Now run along, little Princess!"

Teresa put her hands on her hips and glared at him. If looks could kill then he would have been on his way to joining his mother. As it was, he merely gave a wicked grin.

"Angry little Princess!" he taunted playfully, before running off.


	2. Magic and Mourning

**Disclaimer: I do not own the mentalist or any of the characters**

**A/N: This chapter contains mild themes of child abuse following alchohol abuse. This may disturb some readers. **

As they stood at the back of the church, Patrick could tell that Teresa was close to tears. He nudged her gently. "Do you want to go outside?" he asked and she nodded.

Out in the open air a little of the colour returned to her cheeks. He could see how distressed she was and for once kept quiet, knowing that she would talk when she was ready. They had know each other for a little over a month now, although it felt like both longer and shorter at once. He knew that Teresa didn't like to share her feelings, that the events of the previous month had built up walls around her heart that would perhaps never truly come down. Her mother had passed away earlier the previous week and they were there in the church for her funeral. He knew how close Teresa and her mother had been and how hard it was to loose a loved one. He also knew that it was something that no wise words could heal, only time.

Teresa finally broke the silence, as the tears broke free. "I hate it!" she said, angry both at herself, for giving way to emotions and at the universe for robbing her of her mother. "Every time I say anything about missing her it's all 'she's gone to a better place' and 'at least she's happy and at peace'. I don't want her in a better place- I want her here. She was happy here, with me! It's not the same without her. Daddy never smiles anymore, he's always angry and he never stops drinking."

Patrick gently reached out, gently placing an arm around her shaking shoulders and she smiled at him through her tears. "Do you want to go back inside?" he asked and she shook her head.

"Let's just walk," she replied.

As with the majority of their walks they ended up in the rose garden, in amongst the tangles of thorns and sweet flowers, the juxaposition of which echoed Teresa's life. To an unsuspecting observer, she seemed to live a charmed life. The only daughter of the King and Queen, she had been doted upon throughout her whole childhood and lived in luxury. She was provided all the toys she could want, but playmates were scarce and so, despite her palace upbringing, her childhood had thus far been a lonely existence, lacking the laughter that so many of the poorer children, who could barely dream of living her life, had every day. Her father seemed like the perfect King, kind to his subjects and loyal to his friends. Since his wife's illness and subsequent death, however, he had fallen apart, seeking consolation at the bottom of the bottle. It terrified Teresa, who in her short existance had never had anything to fear until now. She protected her younger brothers from his rage, but could not protect herself. Her only escape from the horror was with Jane. He understood how she felt, having lost his mother similary. However, he also had the luxury of being the youngest, protected by his elder sister Charlotte and his father had never fallen apart as severely as Teresa's.

Teresa sat on the grass, pulling petals off a rose in melancholy silence. Jane smiled. "Watch this!" he said. He had been learning a new trick in the hope of impressing his friend and was very proud of it. Teresa looked up, a smile gracing her tear-streaked face and she awaited the magic with a glimmer of excitement. Jane's tricks were always beautiful and incredible and she wnjoyed them a lot, although he rarely revealed his secrets to her.

Jane took a rose. He held it in his hands, cupping them together so that the rose was hidden. Then he pulled them apart and a blood red butterfly fluttered out. Teresa giggled, a sound of pure glee and Jane was appeased and proud to know that his trick had its desired effect of distracting Teresa from her woes, if only for a second.

"It's beautiful," she said, surveying the butterfly, who was perched on the edge of a milky white rose, a startling contrast in colour. Jane nodded smiling a little, before realising how long they had been gone.

"Come on, we'd best get back, someone will have realised we're gone," he said, grabbing Teresa's hand. As he did so, her sleeve slid up a little, revealing mottled purple marks, in the shape of a hand, as though someone had gripped her wrist a little too hard. He was shocked and as he looked up at her she turned her face away, as if ashamed.

"Did your Father do this to you?"asked Jane.

Teresa shook her head and tried to pull away, but Jane's grip was to strong and she gave up.

"It's nothing Trick. Just leave it."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "They're bruises Teresa. Someone gave you them. Was it your Father?"

Teresa thought about lieing, but gave in, realising the futility of keeping a secret from someone who seemed to possess the ucanny ability to read minds and see inside souls. She nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Jane, concerned about his friend.

"Because I knew you'd be angry. It doesn't matter, they barely even hurt. At least when he hurts me the boys are safe. They're too young to understand."

"You're too young to be having to deal with this Teresa. You should tell someone."

"He's still my dad Jane! And worse, he's the King. If I told anyone they'd just tell me to keep quiet. Just please don't say anything to anyone!"

Jane sighed. "Fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	3. Birthday Blues ( and pinks)

**Disclaimer: I do not own the mentalist or its characters :) **

**A/N: I apologise for any spelling errors, as my spell check is not working :(**

Teresa surveyed herself in the mirror with vague distaste. Her entire body was encased in a frilly _pink_ gown which was constraining and frankly ridiculous. It was bad enough that she would be expected to dance, but to do so whilst clothed in this monstrosity was an appalling idea. She could only imagine how much Jane would tease her. It wasn't for the first time that she envied his good fortune of having been born as a boy. It was Teresa's tenth birthday and she was to have a ball to mark the occasion, held within the palace and attended by many of the townsfolk and servants. Jane was to be there, as his father would be performing his magic tricks. Teresa's servant smiled at her, oblivious to her foul

mood.

"You look lovely Princess," she said and ignored Teresa's glare. She was used to the princesses moods and mostly dismissed them. As Teresa had been deemed too young to have her only Lady in Waiting, she was the servant who usually attended to the princess and she knew how much of a tomboy she was becoming. Surrounded mainly by boys and with virtually no female influences, she was practically one of the boys herself and cared for her younger brothers like a mother. Her father was still battling with the drink and Teresa made it her job to keep her brothers away from him as much as possible. Tommy, the oldest of the boys at seven, knocked on Teresa's door and walked in without waiting for a reply. He surveyed his sister with a look of pure horror.

"What are you wearing Rees? You look ridiculous!" The future king, Tommy could not have looked less like a leader. His brown hair fell into his eyes and he was missing his two front teeth. In his hand he held a book, for he was rarely found without one. He was clever and shy, a direct contrast to his younger brother Michael. Michael was five and a whirlwhind of mischief whom Jane delighted in corrupting. He was confident and smiley, but small for his age and carried a blanket around like Tommy carried his books. The youngest prince was only two and was all blonde curls and dimples, the carbon copy of his father in his heyday.

Teresa glared at her brother. "Get lost Tommy!"

The servant glared at her. "Princess," she chided, "You are a lady and you should speak as one."

"Fine," snapped Teresa, tossing her head and wishing for the millionth time that she were a boy "Would you _kindly_ GET LOST!"

Tommy sniggered and sauntered out of the room. The servant turned to Teresa. "Princess, any more of this behaviour and you shalln't go to the ball this evening!"

Teresa mulled this over. It had failed to occur to her that misbehaviour could get her out of this and she wondered whether she would have time to get in enough trouble that the punishment would be enforced. She thought it unlikely, but decided to try. Mustering her best glare, she scowled darkly at the servant and tossed her head. "My name is Teresa!" she snapped, but the servant had already turned away and merely walked out of the room, leaving Teresa to her fate.

The ball would have been a source of great joy to most little girls, with the ballroom adorned in pink ribbon and an orchestra playing in the corner. There were magicians and jugglers and there was a great deal of excitement in the air, but Teresa felt none of it. She merely stood in a corner, scowling so darkly that none of the boys invited dared to ask her to dance. When Patrick and Charlotte arrived they made their way straight over to her.

"Hello Teresa," grinned Patrick. "I love your dress."

Teresa glared at him and his sister slapped his arm. "Stop it Patrick!" she ordered. "I think that you look lovely Teresa."

Teresa smiled, although she disagreed. She adored Charlotte and loved to see her boss Trick about. At sixteen, Charlotte was now seen as a Lady, but she was still as childish as her brother. They shared the same bright smile and blonde curls and Teresa couldn't help but think that the pink dress would have suited Charlotte far better than her. Charlotte did, however, look beautiful in light blue to match her eyes and it was barely a minute before a handsome young man had whisked her off to dance.

Patrick grinned at Teresa. "Shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Dance? With you?" Teresa looked as though she would rather have her nails removed one by one and Jane choked back a laugh at the sight of her face.

"You're going to have to dance at some point. You can't just hide in the corner all night. It may as well be with me."

Teresa shrugged, unable to fault his logic and followed him onto the dance floor.

Once on the floor they found themselves surrounded by twirling couples, bright dresses swirling and twisting in dizzying patterns like butterflies or leaves in a breeze. Charlotte whirled past in the arms of a dashing young gentleman and smiled at them, before disappearing back into the ebb and flow of the crowd. Teresa found that she was beginning to enjoy herself. As Patrick was leading, she could merely relax and enjoy the twirling motion and pleasant music, even with the horror of her dress at the back of her mind. As though reading her thoughts, which knowing Jane was possible, even likely, he grinned cheekily at her.

"Your dress is definately eye catching. I'm not sure that I've ever seen such a pink dress before. It matches your cheeks." Teresa glared at him and moved slightly to stamp on his toe. She gazed up at him innocently. "I'm sorry, was that your toe?" she asked and he gave a mock scowl.

"So violent for a lady," he siad, knowing of course that this would annoy her.

She glared at him and would probably have given an angry retort had the bell not rung to summon the guests to the feast. Teresa was seated at the head of the table, something seen as a great honour, but as she was surrounded by adults, speaking of adultish things, she found it rather tedious. She and Patrick pulled faces at one another when no adults were looking, until Charlotte, noticing them and viewing herself as an adult and therefore responsible for ending such childish games, reprimanded Patrick in hushed tones. Angry at being criticized, a flush rose in his cheeks and he remained in sullen silence for the rest of the meal, without so much as catching Teresa's eyes. Annoyed at being igored, she vowed not to speak to him again until the ball was over, but he came over and apologized to her in such an imploring way that she gave in out of sympathy to him and deigned to talk to him again. By now it was late and Teresa was too tired to dance. Instead they walked through the gardens, their way lit by lanterns and fireflies that danced around their heads in whirling patterns, captivating Teresa, who was rarely allowed out after dark. She and Jane had settled on a low wall, for the dewy drass would be sure to stain her dress, when a small figure appeared, dragging a blanket behind him.

"Resa," said Michael, yawning. "I'm bored."

"So go to bed then," said Teresa, with all the sympathy and wisdom of an older sister. Michael shook his head defiantly.

"I'm not tired," he said, displaying a little of his sister's stubborness even with his bleary eyes.

Jane chuckled, recognising his friend in her sibling and being amused by the resemblance.

"Hey Michael," he said, "Why don't you sit on Teresa's lap and I'll show you a magic trick."

Michael obliged, snuggling down on his sister's knee, surrounded by the many folds and frills of her skirt.

Patrick took a coin out of his pocket and twirled it deftly between his fingers. He clapped his hands and opened them, showing that the coin had gone. Then he reached behing Michael's ear and pulled out the coin. Michael giggled and clapped. "Again!" he implored.

Patrick repeated the trick several times, until Michael no longer reacted, his breathing slowed and he let out the occasional, whistling snore.

"He's asleep," whispered Teresa. Jane reached out and lifted the small boy out of her arms. They walked back into the Palace and handed him to a servant, before heading back into the hall. Jane's father was astounding crowds with his magic tricks, but Lisbon couldn't help but think that she preferred Patrick's, although his so called 'mind reading' unnerved he a little and she refused to let him teach it to her brothers. It was bad enough to have a best friend who could read your mind, but to have little brothers who could do so did not bear thinking about. As the night ended Teresa said goodbye to Patrick and Charlotte and realised that the night had not been as bad as she had expected.


End file.
